#i do want them to have a better life though

[steveslevis]

can you see right through me?

azriel x mate!reader

summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.

warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy

word count: 9.5k (oops...)

Ever since finding out that you’re mated to none other than the High Lord’s Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.

You’re not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, you’re now part of the Night Court’s Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. He’d rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when they’re in or around your shop. 

You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position. 

“How do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?” 

“He could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I don’t ever see them together.”

“She’s definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.”

“I thought he was with the Morrigan, she’s much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.”

Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isn’t ever until you’re in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.

You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. You’re convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.

The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that they’re all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you don’t deserve him. You don’t see him often anyways, as you’re both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesn’t help the fact that you’re convinced that he doesn’t want to be around you. 

You’re stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide it’s worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond. 

Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops. 

For the last few Sundays, you didn’t feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though. 

You’d taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that he’s surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than you’ve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have. 

Every Sunday for the last month, you’d spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to “fix yourself”, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different. 

You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back. 

Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time he’s seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up. 

“S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male. 

“It’s quite alright,” he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. “Where are you going?”

“Was just gonna go on a run,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. “Did–did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?” he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that he’s actually upset.

“I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean it like that!” you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you. 

“Hey, no it’s alright. I was only joking.” Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. “I didn’t mean to take you by surprise, I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.”

You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you what’s bothering you, but can see that you’re obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesn’t want to pry. Since he’s known you, you’ve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead. 

“I did have a real reason for coming over here though,” he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Rhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.” 

“T–The High Lord?” you question, and Azriel nods. “W–Why is he requesting my presence at dinner?���

“Well, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims it’s not a complete family affair if my mate isn’t present.” he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know you’re typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.”

There’s a pleading look in your mate’s eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you can’t say no to him at that moment. 

“I–I, yeah, I can come tonight.” you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly. 

“Perfect,” he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, “I’ll meet you here around five? It’s just over at the River House.” 

You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder how forced it is, can’t help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.

There’s no way in hell you’re going for a run now. 

You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what you’re going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. It’s more revealing than most clothes you wear, but it’s the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time you’re done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store. 

You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do. 

Azriel’s eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.

“I–I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it’s beautiful,” he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, “You’re beautiful.”

Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that he’s lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.

The two of you are greeted by more people than you’d expect when you enter the High Lord and Lady’s home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. You’ve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. There’s an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if you’re having second thoughts about him. 

Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. You’re only roped into conversations every once in a while, so you’re able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there. 

With a snap of the High Lord’s fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses. 

“I propose a toast,” Rhysand suggests after getting everyone’s attention, eyes landing on you finally, “to Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.”

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. ‘Cheers’ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand that’s sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.

“I, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.” she says with a sly grin, “because I think if she wouldn’t have, then the Spymaster would’ve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.”

There’s a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the female’s words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one you’ve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do. 

“Truly, I’m grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,” you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice. 

The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amren’s comment. You’re able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that you’re one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table. 

Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.

There’s a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.

“Ready to go home?” he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod. 

“You don’t have to walk me home, Azriel.” you start once you’re out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. “I’m truly fine to go by myself, you don’t–don’t have to bother to go out of your way for me.” 

His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks. 

“I–You’re not a bother to me.” he says, unsure of what else to say to you, “If you’re upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when she’s drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuries–”

“Truly, Azriel, it’s quite alright.” you interject with a pained smile. “You didn’t ask to be mated to me, I understand if you’re preoccupied with other love interests or if you just don’t want to be with me.” 

The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, you’re taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I get it, I really do. And–And if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, I’ll understand.”

Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond. 

Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but it’s almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what you’re saying to him now. 

He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness he’s never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond. 

But you don’t feel it because you’ve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that there’s no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because you’re convinced that he wants this.

There’s no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you can’t let him see how you’re crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill. 

If you would’ve looked back in that moment, you would’ve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsinger’s cheeks. If you wouldn’t have blocked out the bond in that moment, you would’ve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness. 

Azriel didn’t follow after you though, he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He’d fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space. 

So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse. 

He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes he’d made. 

You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?

Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love he’d ever been shown in his life.

You were shy and quiet, something he wasn’t used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, he’d mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought you’d needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong. 

Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him. 

_______________________________________

Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mate’s early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark. 

“You’re not very good at being quiet, General.” she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. “Rhys said there’s an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.” 

She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day. 

Nesta knows then that she won’t be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that she’d finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that she’ll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time. 

She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.

It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed. 

“I’m not surprised,” Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, “I’m sure she’s been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The store’s been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.” 

Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae females’ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them. 

Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.

“I don’t know either of you females–and I’m very glad I don’t–” the sharp-eyed female spat out, “but I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. I’m sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.”

The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.

Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she would’ve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you aren’t lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario. 

Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite person–Nyx.

The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and it’s evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps. 

“Long day?” Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyx’s hair as he sleeps silently on her chest. 

Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.

“Well, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.” Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhys’ hand to intertwine into her own. “Nuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him. 

A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. It’s hard to read the male, so she’s not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.

“How was your day, Nes?” her thoughts are interrupted by Cassian’s words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.

“Great, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,” she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. “But I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.”

She notes how Azriel’s eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.

“Oh, did you go to Y/N’s store? I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.” Feyre asks while forking some food for her son. 

“Well, that was the original plan.” Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, “Have you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?”

Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nesta’s gaze the harshest out of all of them. 

“No, I haven’t heard from her since Saturday.” he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though he’s going to throw up.

“Hm, interesting.” Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if that’s even possible, “I tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.” 

“All week?” Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.

“You haven’t heard from your mate for a week and you haven’t thought to try to contact her?” Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nesta’s. 

“She–She hasn’t left her apartment since last Saturday.” Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. “She thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And I’m starting to think I should.” 

Everyone goes silent then, even Nyx’s babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azriel’s hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.

“Why do you think that?” Nesta’s the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. “What makes you think you should reject the bond?”

“I fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.” he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. “I hurt her and I didn’t even realize it. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. I can’t figure out how to make it better, I–I don’t know how to take away her pain. I’ve been her mate for less than six months and I’ve already lost her trust in me. I don’t deserve such a sweet creature like her.”

“Do you want to reject the bond?” Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.

“I don’t. But–”

“There’s no but, Azriel.” Cassian interrupts firmly, “You either want to, or you don’t. And you don’t want to reject it, I know you don’t. You’ve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, you’re going to kill the poor female. You’re gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.”

_______________________________________

In all honesty, you don’t know what day it is anymore. You’ve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe. 

You can’t remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that you’ve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like you’re dying, like you’re withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You don’t know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasn’t tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.

You hadn’t realized how much you had grown to rely on the male’s visits and nervous glances, how much they’d excited you, until they were no more. 

The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you don’t let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish you’d just cease to exist already. There wasn’t anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too. 

When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough. 

But they don’t. 

They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops. 

What you don’t hear–or see–in that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs. 

Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.

You don’t expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as you’re laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.” 

It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but that’s not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as you’re curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that you’re facing, but you don’t look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.

Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully then–your unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyes–you truly were dying from a broken heart.

“Y/N,” he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you do–you had to be dreaming him, right?

“I’m–I’m so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?” he says, and you only blink up at him because you’re not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. “Are–Do you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? I–I wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.” 

A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and that’s when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d ruined yourself before he’d even broken the bond, so now you’ve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering. 

“‘M sorry, A–Azriel,” you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days. 

“S–You’re sorry?” he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, “No–No, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, love.” He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, okay? I’m so sorry and I’ll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. I–I wanna help you now, if you’ll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?” 

Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can. 

You don’t remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. She’d mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing you’d remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out for but you’re sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in. 

Though alone at the moment, you know he’s not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed. 

The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair he’d positioned on the side where you laid.

“Hi,” he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find. 

“H–How long was I out for?” you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. “How long have I overstayed?”

“What?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think you’re burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. “You haven’t overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.”

You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what he’s telling you. “N–No, you only came to find me because I’m–I’m stupid and didn’t give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.” you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this, please–please, you can reject it now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldn’t deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasn’t just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil you’re going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes you’ve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way you’re tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how you’re the one who should be apologizing for everything.

“Y/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, “I don’t want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.” 

You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesn’t let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. “Nesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.” he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, “Is that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?” 

You can’t even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat. 

“No, it only happened a–a few times.” you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. “I want to take a bath.” you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.

Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, “You’re not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didn’t eat for almost a whole week, you’re too weak to stand right now.” he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, “Do you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if you’d rather bathe now.”

You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once it’s nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy. 

“A–Azriel,” you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. “Can you help me bathe?”

The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that you’d been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didn’t realize he’d grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest. 

You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.

There’s nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. He’s careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another. 

It’s such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue. 

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever let yourself get like this again?” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. “I–I don’t know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I won’t let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when I’m the one to blame for this whole situation.”

You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.

“It’s–It’s not your fault, Azriel.” you say, shaking your head insistently at him, “It’s my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, I–I know you didn’t ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when there’s plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldn’t have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, I–I should’ve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.”

“It’s you I want to be with, Y/N.” he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so he’s face-to-face with you when he continues, “I don’t care that you’re lesser fae, I fucking hate that you’re considered that anyways, it’s a disgusting term. I’m not even a high fae myself, I don’t care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that I’ve finally found my mate.” Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, “My mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you don’t, and I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.”

Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain would’ve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate. 

Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. He’s so beautiful, and though there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that he’s lying, deep down you know that he’s all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than you’ve ever felt, something so compelling that you can’t just sit and stare at him anymore. 

You don’t say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesn’t. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, you’re able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss. 

“I love you, Azriel.” you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment. 

He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub. 

“We really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?” he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.

You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but there’s no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain. 

After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how he’ll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if you’d like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing you’ll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough. 

He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach. 

The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something that’s long overdue.

You’re laying in Azriel’s arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. There’s a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed. 

“Are you alright?” he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. “Do you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently. 

“I wanna get this thing myself,” you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. “You stay right here, alright?” 

Before he can protest, you’re walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word. 

The House is magic alright, you confirm that when you’re on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing. 

You’re met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then you’re on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever. 

Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room. 

You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like it’s about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump. 

“Y/N…” he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. “Are you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?” 

“If you don’t eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.

He takes the plate from you then, but doesn’t grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.

“I promise you that after this bond is accepted, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. I’ll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didn’t get to spend together,” he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, “now eat that food, please. I’m tired of waiting.” 

He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate. 

_______________________________________

It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead. 

When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You don’t dare to protest your mate’s wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register. 

It’s a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and you’re much busier than you’d expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that you’re actually back in the flesh. 

There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They don’t bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with his…

“Do you think she’s single again? Like…do you think he actually rejected the bond?” you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.

“I hope so, there’s no way he actually–Oh my Gods.” her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand. 

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books he’d been holding. 

“Found six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.” he says while pointing at the books. “You really need a better inventory system.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just hire you to do it for me instead, since you’re so good at it.” you tease, shooting him a smirk.

“As long as I’m compensated fairly, I wouldn’t mind.” he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. “On another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once you’re closed up for the day, we’ll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.” 

“We’ve already christened that bedroom,” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, “it’s been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, it’s the first place that was christened by us.”

“And?” he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, “I plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after that…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re beautiful and the love of my life.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was safe to say that you’re getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.

And you’re okay with that.

taglist (add yourself here!): @wrecklesssly @slutforwordsfr @georgiadixon @dreamloud4610 @angelbunny222 @bookishbishhh @fanficscuziranout @Buckingforbuckybarnes @thefandomplace

[7kh]

༉ ease your mind.

cw — wlw. ambessa x f!reader. ambesscock. that’s it that’s the fic. fingering. slight orgasm denial if you squint. pussy slapping. overstimulation. creampie. ambessa loves her stupid little wife (not outwardly said but. yk). ambessa has a huge cock and it almost kills reader (not clickbait!!!)

you stood at the balcony of your palatial-like room, the cold air of the evening hitting your cheeks as your brows furrowed. ambessa sighed at the sight. you were her prized possession, she cleared the rust from you and made you lustrous; now, you were gradually dulling. she couldn’t let that happen. “your performance reflects your effort, little one. you’ve been dragging your feet all week.”

you internally winced at her words. there was no getting around ambessa, no slick tricks or batting eyelashes could conceal how you really felt. “you’re spending too much time in your head. no more of this self-deprecating prattle; you’re fine.” she said finally.

“right..” you exhaled under your breath.

she huffed. if there was one thing she loved about you, it was your compliance. not that it started that way; you had thorns in your words, much to her chagrin. “you disagree,” she noted.

you were a bit too quick to answer, “i do not,”

“no?” she raised an eyebrow at you. another weird shot in your stomach at the slightly teasing tone in her voice. “it’s… it’s silly.” you gulped. “silly.” that was the word you decided? it surprised her even though it shouldn’t. “humor me.”

your eyes briefly flicked to her face for a moment before you looked back down, sighing defeatedly. damn her. “i.. have been dissatisfied with my performance lately. and i fear you have to.” you muttered, you almost thought she didn’t hear you and would coax you to speak louder. but she understood you just clearly. she just didn’t understand why. “so?” you raised an eyebrow at her, looking up at her, continuing as she didn’t let you get the chance to speak yet. “i would have said something to you if i had any grievances. do you doubt my methods?”

mouth slightly gape, you closed it and swallowed again, looking down at the white cement beneath you, “n..no.” ambessa smirked. “no?” she repeated. “then do not waste your brain on such frivolous matters. or do you need a reminder on who exactly you belong to?”

“i-i..” somehow, you were just now made aware of her very close proximity to you. maybe a little too close if you weren’t busy rubbing your thighs together at the mere idea.

“i think you do.”

—

a violent, shuttering breath came from your chest as ambessa’s thick fingers worked amongst your slit, teasing up and down slowly before she rubbed firm yet calculated circles on your clit. gripping the red silk sheets for dear life, and she barely even started. “isn’t this better, hm? a great difference than whatever nonsense you had in that little head of yours.” you sobbed at her teasing, quickly throwing your head back when she added a thick finger inside you. you already felt so full, what more could she have?

you tried your absolute hardest to not squirm and writhe under her when she added another finger, the lewd squelching of your aroused pussy echoing the sumptuous walls. “absolute submission suits you far better, darling..” she drawled while slyly adding a third finger. you nodded dumbly, agreeing to whatever eloquent words she cooed to you. they made your pussy drool hot, creamy juices that made her stomach churn in satisfaction. you pleaded and gasped, her scarred forearm never faltering when your nails dug into it.

to her truimph of having you exactly where she wanted, she removed her fingers, licking them clean shamelessly. messily. like she was sampling piltover cuisine again. except this time it was from your pretty pussy, which automatically made it 10x better than the diplomatic, ‘progressive’ city.

you whine at the loss, bucking your hips up to desperately chase the feeling again until a harsh slap met your cunt, making you squeak and close your thighs together instinctively. “don’t be greedy,” she growled, her blunt hands grabbing the supple skin of your thighs and spreading them wide open for her. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so incredibly aroused right now. “good girls don’t get rewarded if they’re inattentive. behave.” she leaned down to say firmly in your ear. you had no other choice but to nod your head, sniffling in compliance.

“your words, girl.”

“y-yes, ambessa.”

“good,” she smirked, leaning up again, lazily undoing her pants with an unreadable expression on her face. she knew you loved this sight of her, standing tall at the edge of the bed as you anticipated for what’s going to come next. it gave you a grueling feeling in your stomach, yet you chased it. chased her. with a scarred hand, she guided her cock out of the tight and inconvenient confines of her pants, mostly, if not already rock hard. dribbles of precum ran from her slit, making your mouth water at the sight, desperately wanting a taste. but not right now. was she twitching from the cool air of the room, or is she just simply built up and found the chance to finally fuck you? it was probably both.

she didn’t even let you breathe before you felt your knees rub against your chest and pulling you further to the edge of the bed, her slick tip sliding up against your slit, making you shudder. “let me show you how i value your excellence above anything else.” she finally sunk her cock into you, inch by inch, making you cry out. she wasn’t even fully in you yet. “breathe,” she cooed, guiding you through it was the least she could do. she held your legs steady as she sunk even further into you, biting your lip to alleviate the slight uncomfortableness. all of this, for you? the least you could do is just sit there and take it.

but, as soon as the pain faded away, you almost instantly became drunk on her cock, every snap of her hips knocked the wind out of you. your pussy salivated on her, smearing on her stomach and thighs and even on the bed, but she didn’t care. in fact, she encouraged it so much she forced you to look down at the sheer mess you were making. you were embarrassed, but the way you felt her cock twitch and hearing her groan when she saw the way she glided in and out of you made it worth it.

she made you pliable. a moldable, sticky mess, like you were designed by the gods to piece together perfectly like a complicated and difficult puzzle. “please, please please..” you whined, feeling her splitting you open. you were so full of her it was like you could fucking feel her in your throat, her cock kissing and bruising you in places you were unaware of until this evening. she was too big, you finalized— yet you could take it, she knew you could. each pant, moan and whine made that very clear to her.

“just fabulous..” she praised under her breath, appreciating how it earned a squeeze and twitches from your dewy, spongy walls. she knew you were getting close, dangerously so. she never relented her pace, having you babble and slur out nonsense, praise for her fucking you so good, thanking her for fixing your silly self-deprecating problems. she simply smirked and exchanged back filth to your slushed mind, but her smirk would slightly falter as she felt herself growing closer to release as well.

“‘bessa, gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, fuck—!!” you were only met with a nod, a final command as you followed it, like always. sobbing helplessly, a final, brutal slam made you gush everywhere, sinking herself down as you came unbelievably hard, your moans borderline whorish when you felt her cum deep inside you, a few shallow thrusts to ensure no drop escaped.

she barely even broke a sweat, yet you were under her fucked out of your mind, thighs twitching in mock-withdrawal in her hands, face ridden with tears and sweat. you were looked a mess, but you never looked more gorgeous in ambessa’s eyes.

her eyes widened softly as your arms wrapped around her neck and pulled her closer to you, but she made no attempt to pull away. she chuckled at your deprivation, rewarding you with a kiss on the side of your lips. “it seems like i hadn’t fail you this time.” you nodded and let out a meek “no” in response. you were too weak to speak at the moment.

you just wanted to selfishly bask in her embrace just a wee longer, wanting your skin to be hers for just a moment.

© 7KH 2024, all rights reserved — do not claim, modify, copy or translate my content.

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

This this this

I grew up homeschooled in a family where my parents basically had us fend for ourselves, while also discouraging us from doing any sort of activity or maintain friendships, so the vast majority of my life was spent feeling cut off and inadequate compared to my peers

Shockingly, I ended up having severe depression, (as did my siblings) and developed extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits as a young teenager, as well as other mental issues.

When I finally was able to start the process of getting help(which truly didn't start until the last few years, despite me being in therapy a decade) and started to do things outside of my usual habits, such as going to school and also getting a job(despite my parents trying to discourage me on my bad days), I was now an adult and felt like there was so much I missed out on, especially when looking at my friends experiences at the same ages.

It's so easy to dwell on those thoughts and revert back to old habits, and even harder to try and work through them(like pushing myself to get out of bed, or go to a function with friends). So many people I know who don't have depression just assume it's a little bit of laziness and sadness, and act like everything would be fixed if I just listened only to happy music and refused antidepressants because my generation is 'overmedicated'. And while we definitely are over medicated, without those medicines, so many people (myself included) wouldn't be here.

While my depression is better, and thankfully I've been pretty good with catching up on lost time academic wise, I still struggle with depression and the fallout from everything that has contributed to it. I hang out with friends but almost always end up feeling drained or depressed afterwards, even though I'm around people I care about and like, and I know they feel the same, there is always that voice in my head that one day they're going to change their minds and realize I'm not worth it or that maybe they don't actually like me.

Depression takes a huge toll on my body, I am always tired and overwhelmed, and when I am around friends and peers I feel like I'm an imposter just hoping no one catches on and questions the fact I try to mimic others behavior in hopes I blend in better (even if it's something I know to do, I suddenly feel awkward and panicked and act like I've never dealt with it before, thus watching others and trying to copy movements/actions, even if it's something I'm very knowledgeable about/good at)

I am drained because I feel I have to put on a front that everything is fine, and I feel bubbly and happy all the time, because otherwise people think I'm ungrateful/slighting them, or there out of pity(my sister is someone who thinks all of those reasons unless I'm all happy on the outside). Even though so many times, I was looking forward to doing something or spending time with someone, but for no reason I can think of, I get struck by depression when the time comes, but I still want to take part, because I worry I'll regret missing out, so I go and spend the time trying to act how people want me to, which is exhausting.

It's taken years to get used to these bad days, and I am working to let myself have a breather or just listening to what my body needs when it happens, (I've been better lately and I'm proud of that, but I still struggle occasionally). It's taken years to learn to stop comparing my life with what my younger cousin or old friend is doing/has done by my age, (or if they've done even more), slightly less to learn to ignore the timeframe society(and family) deems is 'normal', and since then, my quality of life has been better.

All this to say, depression has ruled my life and I deal with that everyday, and it is hard to ignore the sadness I feel for my young self and all she never got to do. But, I made it to 23 (something my 13yr old self never thought would happen), and even tho I didn't get to experience things on what is considered a 'normal' timeline for people my age, I have a whole lifetime of experiences to look forward to, and while my depression may be a part of those, it won't be for all of them.

You know what people don’t talk about often enough? Playing catch up in life after spending your teens or early 20s suicidally depressed. There’s so many more layers than just being able to say “I don’t want to die anymore.”

The difficulty in academia or a career after spending years thinking you wouldn’t be alive long enough for any of it to matter.

The exhaustion that comes from self awareness and self soothing, with the constant voice in your head saying “don’t go backwards.”

How lonely it is to watch the people your age starting families when you’re just barely learning what stable relationships are, and the sudden societal pressure of being “up against a clock” for these kinds of things.

The judgement from others if you change your image or interests this late in the game just because you finally figured out who you really are under the demons.

Be kind to those who are developing and blooming after years of not planning on being here long. We are living a life we absolutely didn’t think we’d have, and it’s hard enough without society reminding us there’s expectations of our age.

We didn’t get to be young; we were too busy fighting battles few know.

-

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler. 

This was a lie. 

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels. 

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd. 

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.  

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either. 

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person. 

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death. 

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find. 

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?) 

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends. 

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate. 

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise. 

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end. 

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out. 

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government. 

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest. 

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout,  he was getting his car out of it. 

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice. 

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal. 

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise? 

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel. 

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris. 

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way. 

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E. 

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force. 

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.) 

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is. 

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh. 

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage. 

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor. 

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove. 

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed. 

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now. 

Billy’s death.

 Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home. 

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.” 

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return. 

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice. 

 Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did? 

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82. 

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed. 

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall. 

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all? 

“Harrington?” 

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him. 

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good. 

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind. 

Lies. 

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.” 

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face. 

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time. 

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back. 

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London. 

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate... 

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up. 

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings. 

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. ) 

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?” 

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination. 

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after. 

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game. 

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him. 

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.” 

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be. 

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.) 

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch. 

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination. 

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment. 

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt. 

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them. 

How much easier some of it would have been. 

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face. 

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke. 

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.” 

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.” 

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands. 

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”  

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested. 

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go. 

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.” 

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had. 

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.” 

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.) 

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?” 

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.” 

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off. 

He sighed a second time. 

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone. 

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.) 

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it. 

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.” 

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!” 

“Not any good ones.” 

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--” 

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was  down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing. 

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

[chronicowboy]

i can't see you (the light is in my face) | 15.6k (E)

"What are we drinking today?" Eddie asks as he carries the teapot over to the kitchen table from the counter. He sets it down on the woven grass placemat in the centre of the table and slides into the seat opposite his abuela.

"Blue tea," she says, pushing her teacup towards him.

"And why do they call it that?" He raises an eyebrow at her before picking the teapot back up again to pour her some. He flushes when it comes out a dazzling blue. Abuela just rolls her eyes at him, a glint of amusement sparkling there.

"Rosa from book club gave me some," she tells him, lifting her cup and inhaling some of its steam. "She said it's made from butterfly pea flowers, so it tastes very floral."

Eddie pours himself a cup, watches the blue pool against the white porcelain and thinks of Buck. They'd talked briefly on the drive between the station and his abuela's. But Buck had been late for lunch with Bobby, and Eddie had let him go even though he'd wanted to sink his nails into the phantom of Buck's voice.

"Oh, hey, wait there." Eddie drifts back to the kitchen counter and picks a lemon from the fruit bowl. He slices it into wedges and takes two of them with him back to the table. "Buck told me about this stuff. I think he tried every tea under the sun after his coma. Did a bunch of research on all the different health benefits of them. I'll have to ask him for recommendations." He drops back into his seat and sets a wedge of lemon onto Abuela's saucer. "Says a chemical in the lemon is supposed to..." He squeezes the juice into his tea and grins as it begins to react. "Ah! Purple tea!" He tilts his cup just enough for Abuela to catch a glimpse of it.

"Oh!" She clasps her hands together, eyes lighting up, before reaching for her own wedge of lemon.

Eddie watches her stir the purple into her blue tea with a childlike glee, lets his own frivolous joy spread through him like hot tea. Accepts it for what it is. Little blessings, his abuela used to say. Life is full of little blessings. And Eddie is learning to welcome them without guilt. He pulls his phone out under the table and taps out a quick text:

Having blue tea with Abuela. Your lemon trick worked! But now she thinks you're a witch that's corrupted me with the dark arts :/

"Eddito?" Abuela pokes him in the shoulder with her teaspoon, and Eddie slips his phone back into his pocket like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, um." He picks his cup up for the first time, convinces himself it's just the rising steam that has a flush bleeding through his cheeks as he takes a sip. He wrinkles his nose. "It's... Very blue?"

"Mm." She nods, tight-lipped. "Not the best we've had. But the lemon definitely made it better."

"And some honey might make it tolerable," Eddie says as he plucks the jar from the small tea caddy against the wall. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out greedily as he stirs the honey into his tea.

eddie tell her that blue tea helps heart and brain health and that the lemon boosts your immune system so if i am a witch i'm at least a nice holistic witch

tell her eddie tell her

:(

"Who is that?" Abuela asks, raising an eyebrow at his phone.

"Just Buck."

But she'll just think you've bewitched me into saying it. Which you basically did.

"Ah, Buck," she says sagely.

are you calling me bewitching diaz?

i might have gone with beguiling but whatever

Eddie snorts, tucks his phone under his thigh and takes another sip of his tea.

"It's definitely better with the honey," he says. Abuela just stares at him, her head cocked slightly to the left the way it is whenever she's stuck on a sudoku puzzle. "What?"

"Nothing." She shrugs. "How is Buck?"

(OR: eddie makes a new friend, she makes some assumptions, eddie spirals about it in his patented life-ruining way)

[northboreas]

I cannot understate how clever and beautiful Penelope's response to wyfilwma is. In the original myth, Penelope literally isn't sure if the man before her is truly her husband, so she asks him to move a bed that is impossible to move. A fact about their relationship that only he could know. When he gets absolutely flabbergasted over this request, it's proof that it IS him.

In Epic there is only one change. Instead of Penelope being unsure, Odysseus is unsure of himself and feels like he would be unrecognizable to his wife. He keeps telling her over and over again, I am not the man you knew, and it's almost as though he's trying to convince himself, too. Like since he crossed every line he's killed all the gentleness in him, and he has to force himself to accept it. Penelope knows better, Penelope knows him. Instead of using their wedding bed as a way to prove it to herself, she proves it to him instead.

"See that wedding bed? Could you carry it over?

Lift it high on your shoulders and take it far away from here"

Shes talking about their bed but she is also talking about their love, their history, everything that makes up their marriage. Its like shes asking him, if you truly are someone else- here's everything that we used to be, everything that we built together, throw it out. You're not the same, right? Then surely you can detach yourself from it all.

But he cant. he cant he cant he cant and she knows that. The shock and the outrage and the pain of being asked to do such a thing hits him with a full force and he talks of how he made the bed, what its meant to them, why he couldnt possibly move it away.

"Do you realize what you have asked me?

The only way to move it is to cut it from its roots"

To cut it from the roots would be to sever their love entirely, it cant exist without what came before and what came before was the two of them. He fears thats what she wants, a completely uproot of their life together. But the fact that he fears it, truly deeply cares like a sentimental bastard, the fact that he could never not be the man who loves her is what she's been trying to show him all along.

"Only my husband knew that

So I guess that makes him you"

like my GOD. THIS LINE. He cannot be anything but her love because he is the only man who knows what they are to each other. She says it and that is final. Moving it is impossible because seperating the man he used to be from the man he is is impossible too. They are one in the same.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again

I don't care how, where, or when

No matter how long it's been, you're mine

Don't tell me you're not the same person

You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting"

She is not loving him by ignoring the trail of bodies in his wake and her love does not change the carnage-- in fact she is the reason for it, she knows this and she doesnt care. This is her husband now and always. And as long as bloodied hands will still hold her weaving ones he is the same exact man she's been waiting for.

It is such a beautiful message to leave your audience with. It is so perfect for Penelope as a character and the emotional weight this song has elevated my understanding of the odyssey and their relationship. Twenty years is so long, everything has changed, we have done unforgivable things to get home to each other-- because our home is each other. You are sharp and cruel and I am cunning and so so angry and we are both so tired but guess fucking what, I love you. No matter how long its been, youre mine.

[grinchdelia]

this post is kinda funny to me cause while I'm certainly no survival expert or anything. I have built and cooked on fires. None of them followed a neat layout like this. Not sure if the game is just different for the expert fire builders but none of this is particularly helpful for people who are just out camping once in a while or unexpectedly thrown into a survival situation.

It's much easier to get a fire started with a loose little teepee of tiny twigs, don't start setting up with anything bigger than the width of a finger. Most of that pile should be the tiniest twigs you can find. It's going to look like a messy pile, not neat like above. Hopefully you have a bit of paper or torn up cardboard as tinder in the center but you can also scrounge up dry lichen or something, most dry loose fluffy plant material will do. Wood shavings work but take a lot of time to prepare.

The really critical thing to remember about fires is the airflow which is mentioned but I don't think a lot of readers will appreciate how difficult the "star" or "platform" would be to get going and keep lit. If you are inexperienced enough to take internet fire advice, you want to make it as easy as possible on yourself. There's a sweet spot where your pile is more air than wood, but not so loose that the flame has no fuel to spread.

So you have your little twig pile, ideally with some paper in the middle. Light from as close to the bottom as you can, it's always a little fiddly but if you have small enough twigs and they're not too dense it should hopefully "catch" pretty quickly. Hold off until it's really blazing then add more wood, starting with finger width, and working your way up.

The shape and structure of the fire is something you build up, not the starting configuration of logs. Some of the above like the log cabin especially, you'd be able to light pre-built. But that makes it harder than it needs to be. You end up making a lot of lean-to or log cabin shapes anyway when you're adding wood, but if you need to conserve fuel or keep the fire smaller you can add larger pieces or roll them off so they're touching the ground and getting less air. Keep in mind that raging flames = less smoke and vice versa. Once a log is charcoal all through it won't smoke any more though.

Cooking isn't that difficult, it just takes a while to build up a nice supply of embers. You can shape your cooking bed after your fire has been going for an hour or more. I haven't had issues with uneven cooking but thats usually cause I'm keeping an eye on it and turning regularly if it's too close to the main fire.

if you're just out camping and have a bunch of tin foil, you don't need to wait so long. Just do a couple layers of wrap with some moisture inside depending on what you're cooking, and you can throw the foil lumps right in the flames. I wouldn't recommend messing around with stones but if you don't have a grill or foil and you're cooking something that can't be roasted on a stick, I guess hot stones are your other option.

Oh and the Swedish torch on here is interesting but it's not easy to find logs like that. Plus outside of life and death situations it's better to leave stuff like that alone, that's animal habitat! Best to burn wood thats old and dry but not too far rotted. The concept reminds me of a "rocket stove" kit I had that is basically just a meal cylinder for efficiently burning twigs for cooking. It was a very useful item and worth carrying around when backpacking.

[amaryllis-22]

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: John Price × Reader

Infos: Pregnancy, afab reader, mild possessive behavior near the end, mature and slightly dark themes

Based on this idea

As a member of Task Force 141, you'd dedicated your whole life to your team, to the Crown, and to the protection of international security. Going from home to work and from work to home had become the normality you'd learnt to accept.

It was nothing too tragic, truly.

When you were on duty, you didn't have time to worry about your decadent social circle, and when you were off deployment, you could always hit a pub with one of the lads. None of them would ever turn down an opportunity for a little distraction. Hell, you'd even started spending more time in the barracks than in your flat, to the point where the landlord questioned whether you'd died in action and he merely hadn't been informed about it.

Everything had been fine until, well, it no longer was.

Shrouded in the silence of your one-room apartment on a grey autumn day, you'd wondered what would be left of you after you inevitably ceased to be useful to the military. You'd probably be discharged with a respectful handshake, a few medals, and a good amount of money to spend the rest of your life doing... what exactly? Rot in loneliness?

No, you couldn't stand it, not anymore at least.

Those same circumstances you had considered acceptable and fulfilling suddenly seemed not to be enough. Perhaps you could have borne it in your early years of service, when your sole concern was coming home in one piece and making sure your comrades did the same.

But at the moment you had other needs. You were aware of it.

You'd wandered for a while in the dark searching for something that could help you feel complete — a sort of homemade spiritual journey with more failures than successes and the revelation you were seeking at the end.

You wanted a baby, desperately.

You'd never thought about motherhood before, and yet it had only taken the slightest nudge to turn it into the entire centre of your attention. It was as if a switch had been flipped in your head, triggering that innate and basic instinct to bring another creature into this world.

Shit, you had nothing ready to welcome your little angel.

The house you lived in was too small and in a part of town not ideal for easy access to schools.

Not to mention your job.

You clearly had to take a leave of absence. No matter how accustomed you were to injury, you wouldn't have tolerated the slightest chance of jeopardising your pregnancy.

You absolutely had to notify the higher-ups, or things were bound to get ugly. Money wasn't an issue with all you had saved, but it was possibly worth looking for a part-time job to support yourself in the meantime. All in all, it was better to be safe than sorry

Maybe, just maybe, you were moving things a smidge too fast. No, starting to buy baby clothes and toys was not a good idea because in your euphoric frenzy you'd forgotten a rather important detail.

You weren't in a relationship.

Now, that could have been a problem.

Your lifestyle wasn't helpful in keeping anything steady in the romance department. You could go on a mission and disappear for the next few weeks, if not months. You'd tried in the past (albeit, you must admit, with not too much effort), but balancing your various obligations had proved so stressful that you'd proudly declared yourself out of the market. Your new-found desire to start a family, though, would have forced you to return.

As resourceful as you may have been, it was going to be difficult to conceive a baby without a man to, you know, knock you up.

At that point, instead of getting on some dating app or throwing yourself into a classic blind date like a normal person, what had you done? Obviously, you'd gone to your captain, the man who had saved your life more times than you could have counted, dropping the bombshell he wouldn't have expected.

⎯⎯⎯ 「 𖤓 」⎯⎯⎯

"I want a baby," you announced the minute you entered his office, barely giving the door time to close behind you before you placed yourself in front of his desk. John's hand, which had been working on paperwork, froze in its movement, and his sterling blue eyes lifted to give you his full attention.

"Pardon?" His voice came out gruff and deep, words slipping out in a rush, as if his mind was not quite ready to digest what you had told him.

"I want a baby, Cap," you repeated unperturbed, shoulders squared, legs slightly apart, and back straight as a board. You were almost as confident in your stance as you were in your conviction.

Price's eyebrows furrowed, lips curled into a grimace that bordered on mockery. "Yeah... I heard that."

He hesitated, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk. "I was just wonderin' why you felt the need to share the ... news with me."

The man struggled to follow on which train of thought your brain had derailed.

What was this nonsense?

As far as he knew, you weren't in a relationship and didn't seem interested in one. At least, that was the reply you had given Soap when the Scot had pointed out your dry romantic situation.

Going from 0 to 100 wasn't anything foreign for you; he had learnt to deal with it, but this... was excessive even by your standards.

Had you met some bloke who had made you fall at his feet with honeyed words and pretty promises? No, you wouldn't have been fooled by it. Not his soldier. You were too mature for that shit, but John couldn't help the feeling of jealousy growing in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm telling you this because..." Your statement was enough to snap him out of the tunnel vision his stubborn self had coerced itself into; "...I need your help, to get one I mean."

The silence that spread through the office following your declaration was suffocating. You had mentally prepared for every possible reaction from him, yet seeing it actually happen was in no way comparable.

It wasn't the first time you had stood under Price's intense glare, not with how your relationship was set up. As much as he was your superior, you hadn't failed to make your opinion heard if something didn't sit well with you. You had never come close to insubordination, never really questioned his authority, but you certainly hadn't simply responded with a mere "aye, Cap'n" and carried on with your day.

It was an odd partnership, but it worked for both of you.

If John had to be honest, he viewed it as refreshing and somewhat fascinating. He was aware of how deep your loyalty ran — you'd have followed him down to hell if it had been necessary — so he could overlook your more colourful comments. Still, that didn't mean that he would spare you any of his warning stares.

He wasn't sure if you were playing a nasty prank on him. It wasn't like you, not about such personal matters anyway.

You probably weren't, if the determination and sheer earnestness flashing in your eyes could serve as an indication. That, though, led him to another, bigger problem: seriously consider what you were asking of him.

To state that, after all the years you had spent working shoulder to shoulder, Price had never thought of moving things to another level with you would have been a lie. He clearly found you attractive, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. But hell, you worked so well in his team that he didn't feel like fucking it up simply for some of his urges.

Blurring the lines between work and love life could prove to be a minefield, a dangerous territory where it was difficult to venture.

You, however? Seemed more than willing to dive in like a suicidal maniac.

"You sure are somethin'." He exhaled, with a hint of exasperation. He was way past the age to keep up with you; that much was clear.

John hadn't even entertained the idea that you might see him as more than a trusted friend (he refused to believe that your relationship was purely professional), and now you were begging him to impregnate you? A whiplash wouldn't hold a candle to what this whole affair had become.

He would have wanted to plant his hands on your shoulders and shake some sense into you, to bombard you with questions about how you came up with such a plan, to remind you, in a perhaps overly patronising way, that this was not a decision you could take lightly: it was one that would change your future in the long run, one that you appeared to be handling far too casually.

His tired and burdened body rose from the chair in all its might, strong legs leading him directly in front of you. You owed a lot of explanations to your Captain, who had no intention of letting the matter go without first securing the info he was seeking.

"Why are you proposin' this to me?"

There was no malice or accusation in that, only a curiosity that bordered nearly on morbid. John felt shameful in that moment. Of all the vastly more important issues he could have raised, that was the only one his mind had focused on.

In a twisted manner, you had chosen him.

The knowledge that you'd handpicked him of all people to 'help' you was enough to rub his ego in all the right places, but he needed to know why.

Did you realise who you were offering this to? The consequences that would have followed?

His gaze never left your face, refusing to miss any possible change in your mannerisms. He made you feel like a rare species under a microscope, as if you couldn't hide anything from him, not when he had already scoured the innermost depths of your being in search of answers.

"You're the first one I thought of," you mentioned, finding it almost difficult to get the words out. Your limbs had suddenly become tense, making your posture stiffer than it should be. "Besides, I couldn't trust anyone but you with this."

John regarded himself as a stable person, capable of maintaining a cool and detached mind even in the most absurd and stressful scenarios. Yet in that moment, you had really managed to catch him off guard.

For fuck's sake, he had enough.

Did you want his cock to bully your pussy so badly, to fill it with cum again and again until there was no doubt left about the life he had planted in your womb?

He wasn't going to stop you.

Noticing his impassive expression, you hastened to assure him that, should he accept, you would ask nothing in return: no support for the baby, no parental responsibility, and no emotional attachment.

At that he merely snorted, shaking his head as if trying to chase away an annoying bug.

If you thought he would leave both of you, you and YOUR child, you obviously had still not fully understood the kind of man he was.

John could already imagine it.

A small cottage surrounded by nature, his beautiful wife waiting for him at the door, open arms and sweet smile, the laughter of children in the distance, and a warmth to finally caress his tough skin.

He wouldn't have let you resume your military career after; it would have been too dangerous and pointless.

Not that you had to know.

You would have so much to think about that you wouldn't even notice it. Your little angels would need the steady presence of a mother, and you certainly wouldn't be the one to deprive them of that, would you?

Don't worry; he would take care of it, putting his life on the line for the safety of your little family.

Family.

He had struggled to believe he could ever have one of his own, and now you were offering it to him on a silver platter. How lucky.

"Alright." His calloused hand rose to meet your cheek, thick thumb being passed over the soft pad of your lower lip. His face lowered enough to be exactly before yours. "I'll help you, just... don't come cryin' later for bitin' off more than you could chew."

Tag list: @nova-willow-541

✎There will definitely be a part two in the future.

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

every time i think about my series (again &. again), and the reader's fear towards the color green (or anything associated with damian, their half brother), i think about just how more painful it would be if you share the same features with him that he shares with bruce that amps up the angst element.

it doesn't have to be any major features, it could be small, but noticeable. something that has you reeling in yourself.

maybe it's the shape of your fingers or your brows, the plump of your cheeks, or maybe how your skin flushes the same way his does. maybe it's the way your eyebrows furrow like him, or the quirk of your lips whenever you smile a shadow of his smirk.

it doesn't matter because the more you look, the more you notice.

and the more you remember his glinting, green eyes standing by the arch of your doorway, menacingly watching over your shifting, paranoid body; ready to strike at you like you're prey, ready to eliminate your undeserving presence in the manor.

and of course, it's not a big deal, but for an overthinker like you, someone who's always trying to overcorrect, forcing yourself to not be associated by your family— cutting off every interest, or object, any damn thing that reminds you of them; sharing similarities with appearances, something so intimate, something that could've been just yours, with your youngest brother no less, your tormentor, just makes you want to rip that part of your body to seams.

it inadvertently makes you wish you were never bruce's child, too.

just so you could never see damian in yourself, just so your heart doesn't hasten every time you look in the mirror and find yourself staring at those features for hours. until the image of yourself twists into him, until you're the exact copy of the assassin, of the demon child, of the boy you have to unfortunately call your brother.

and every time you do so, there's a haze fogging inside your head, there's this sickening urge to hurt yourself, to change your appearance even if it's a part of your that cherishes the image of your mother too— if it means taking away the unwanted stems that remind yourself too much of him.

the truth is, you don't hate him, or rather you can't bring yourself to, out of pure, convoluted fear.

you despise the way he makes it feel like there's spiders crawling in the back of your throat, or how your body automatically locks up at the slight mention of his name.

even if you see him as just that, a young boy raised to be corrupted; his youth doesn't disregard the fact that he is the incarnate of danger, the same boy who threatened to end your life at first meeting. whose words cut sharper than blades, whose sword is perched on his back; an unspoken promise to cut more than the skin of your neck if you dare try to fight back.

that even though he's significantly younger, he still holds too much power, enough to destroy your life for something you couldn't even control— your inability to be like them.

you don't hate him, you can't.

but it's easier to hate yourself for it instead.

because if it's so hard to despise him, then it's better to blame yourself for your shortcomings. if you fear looking at yourself, the shadow of your features distorting into damian, then you deserve to feel it.

if your hands find themselves ripping at your hair (the strands, god, the ends of your hair reminds you of the spikes of his, you want to die), then let it hurt you, let it destroy your being until you're nothing but dim, sunken eyes and blood-soaked clothes. let the hatred fester to the point your body transforms into an alien-like appearance just to forget him.

it doesn't register within you just how much you're subjecting yourself to the same tortures you were forced upon in that putrid manor.

the same way you let the torment living in that cage repeat like a cycle, again and again, never truly moving on from your past; a sick narrative you're never escaping from.

after all, you can never run away from the past. it bites you back, with the same, or even stronger force, until all that controls you is fear.

fear that forces you to look in the mirror, stare at yourself, nitpicking every notable feature in your face, in your body, that reminds you of them. fear that's enough to turn you emotional in all your good days, that ruins a happiness you haven't felt for a decade, even more.

fear will always control.

damian will always have control over you, he'll always have the upper-hand.

sometimes, the innocent, young boy you try to find behind the exterior of hatred turns out to be a hideous monster all throughout.

unfortunately, you see that monster in you, too.

a/n: we love complicated relationship dynamics!!! i just woke up and was like, "wait, i have an idea." LMAO. idk half of what i wrote, did i eat with this drabble? maybe. ignore my sudden disappearance sometimes, in another life i'm a hermit crab who hides in its shell probably.

— if i wrote damian here to be too "evil," it's because it's written in the perspective of the reader and their trauma. i don't want him to be this one-dimensional character, he's one of my favorites after all, but i need to establish the relationships and writing drabbles like these help a lot in portraying how they see each other. damian sees you in a different light (you make him weak), and you do too— but both see each other in some twisted perspective of loving each other because you're both still siblings at the end of the day (i'm gonna write more about this too).

[fefe-the-cat]

Frithuswith (protagonist of my current wip, Adultery, Assassination)

[1] Frithuswith is immediately beloved by all. She genuinely loves everyone she meets. Major golden retriever energy, but still competent enough to be one of her kingdom's greatest monarchs.

[2] She's a queen consort. She's never alone. But if she was, she'd probably just... vibe, I guess, I don't know.

[3] Grief, specifically the kind that comes from betrayal. She just denies everything. The only reason she believed Eadgifu when she said she seduced Rastislav (her husband) was because Eadgifu was "running too high a fever to be lying" at the time.

[4] Loving almost to a fault and will make everyone aware.

[5] Definitely a good secret keeper seeing as no one found out about the attempt on Rastislav's life. But they all knew Frithuswith used her regency to usurp the throne.

[6] She meant what she said and she said what she meant. An elephant's faithful one hundred percent!

[7] She could probably lie if she wanted to, but she just... doesn't want to.

[8] She will definitely let you know. She's spunky.

[9] I... don't know, actually. Maybe all of them? I think she can adapt.

[10] Frithuswith fell for Rastislav hard and fast, and trusted him blindly.

[11] A crackling fire, a soft blanket, and an opportunity to yap.

[12] Her self-esteem is pretty high, but she's not arrogant. She knows she's flawed, but she also knows worse people can and do exist.

[13] A joke that might take a second to get. A funny one-liner or clever pun.

[14] It depends on the situation. A flustered/crush laugh is a giggle. An amused laugh is a cackle. Then there's that sad laugh. I don't know how to type it, but I'm guessing you all know what it sounds like.

[15] She overthrew her husband because he cheated on her. This question can't be answered because Frithuswith is never around someone she doesn't like. She just kicks them out or leaves.

[16] She's self-reliant but not problematically.

___

[17] The constant fear of being assassinated.

[18] No.

[19] She wouldn't have married Rastislav. She would have kicked and screamed and insisted on her father making an alliance with another country. Or joined a convent. Or run off into the woods.

[20] She just does her darndest to solve the problem. Cheating husband? Kick him out. Girl tried to assassinate him because she's a hitwoman? Give her a new job. She's very practical.

[21] Really depends on how sick. A little sniffle or an upset stomach? Leave her alone. the plague? Please hold her.

[22] She'll have nightmares, but they're more vaguely threatening and they don't happen often. If they do, she doesn't remember them.

[23] During canon. Husband gets plague, finds out husband got plague from cheating on her because mistress is an assassin, has to rule the country and figure out how to deal...

[24] I'd say overthrowing the king was a pretty heart over head decision.

[25] The story is set in what is implied to be Medieval Europe, so I think all her fears were rational and the better question is why isn't she afraid of everything?

[26] If she does, I'm not sure how important it is to the plot. Up to you guys :) She may have a few traits yoinked from autism though. As a treat. Because I'm autistic. But it's entirely open to interpretation.

[27] She doesn't really have a physical appearance. She could be anyone. But my current mental image of her is Jane from My Lady Jane (the TV show).

[28] Forgiveness is complex. It doesn't mean no longer being hurt. It doesn't mean reconciliation. It means intentionally choosing not to hold a grudge and hate that person for the sake of the forgiver. So I really don't know.

[29] Eliminate the cause, cry...

[30] Healthiest: cry, solve problem. Unhealthiest: you could put her quotes on r/rare insults probably

[31] Hmmmm... I think it depends on whether she's aware that what she did was wrong. If she knowingly did something wrong, she'd own up to it quickly and easily, but if it was an accident or only considered wrong by an arbitrary societal standard (e.g. greeting someone with a cat noise, wearing pants around the palace, etc.), she probably won't, at least not without putting up a bit of a fight.

[32] Being so trusting.

[33] Her wedding. Even if the guy turned out to be an adulterous asshole, she still looks back on it as a good day.

___

[34] She's impulsive and naive, but I don't know how insecure she is about that.

[35] Up to interpretation. I didn't give her a physical appearance, nor do I know if/what beauty standards are applicable in the setting, so it's up to everyone else.

[36] Yes, definitely. Her wedding dress and ring, probably.

[37] She doesn't get those. She has a kingdom to run.

[38] It's a castle. It's inherently safe, otherwise purposeless.

[39] Sidesleeper, probably scrunched up, likes to be the little spoon.

[40] It's the Middle Ages. She can't afford that.

[41] Wake up, get dressed by lady/ies-in-waiting, monch.

[42] Cuddle time for both

[43] She's the queen. That's not a thing.

[44] Wherever the people are.

[45] Depends on the event.

[46] Comfort.

[47] Probably, but not much. Maybe a glass of wine or mead with dinner. Maybe a couple on her wedding night.

[48] princess->queen

___

[49] Literate, good at politics (not even a period-typical misogyny thing, King John of England needed a signet ring for a reason)

[50] Really good at knowing what she wants, really bad at wanting things society wants her to want, probably

[51] I refer again to her position in society.

[52] Old English (Frithuswith was named after St. Frithuswith, Patron Saint of Oxford, that's her native language), Czech (Rastislav is named after the king of Moravia in the 860's), and probably Latin (church and stuff)

[53] I feel like they didn't sing much outside of church at that time...

[54] Just tell her what you want and she'll do her best to get it to you :)

[55] It takes three weeks for habits to be developed, so...

[56] Depends. Was it clever? Did the dirt contribute? Is she eating? Are there children present? What's the relationship between the maker of the joke and everyone else present, including but not limited to her?

[57] Nurse the woman who tried to assassinate her husband back to health.

[58] Morals

[59] She doesn't care much about if she's remembered or specifically what for, but if she is remembered, she wants it to be for something good or morally neutral

[60] I think she already did. She usurped the throne. I think that counts, except she can't break the law because she is the law, so...

OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

___

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

___

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

___

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

---

some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

[nymphea0]

Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395k word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

.

.

The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

.

.

You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

.

.

Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

.

.

.

On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

[muletia]

I know you mentioned on your OP+Megs+Ratchet ask adding in one or both of the scouts, but I can't help but imagine the sheer unparalleled comedy(ish) of the Autobots watching their entire high command (aka OP, Ratchet and Ultra Magnus, of all mecha) go gaga over some poor human. I think the other Autobots would be taking the human out for a spin if only so they can get a breather from everything. (I think Wheeljack would do it more/most often specifically because he knows it'll piss Ultra Magnus off.)

I also have the idea of Ultra Magnus almost being a stop gap for the other two's behavior for one reason or another (at least until he finds out that Megs is gunning for the human too).

Your ideas are excellent either way though👌

this is the post anon is referring to

never been a huge magnus fan in the show but I adore this concept!

To be honest, obsessed!Ultra Magnus would be the most exhausting to be around — and above all, the most tedious — of the entire Autobot Trinity, due to his pedantry and ironclad adherence to rules that weigh heavily on you as well. He’s intense, always keeping a vigilant optic on you, monitoring your every move to ensure you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. After all, the native life forms of this planet are especially fragile and must be protected 24/7, right? So, Ultra Magnus approaches Optimus for permission to take you under his care. To protect you from the Decepticons, of course. It’s not because his little fascination with you is slowly evolving into something deeper — a bond compelling him to stay close to you.

And Optimus agrees because he trusts Magnus and knows you’re in good hands, as he constantly worries about you himself.

The problem is that Magnus’s company is suffocating. Want to leave the base to get some fresh air, have a smoke, or just take a moment for yourself? The SIC of the Autobots is always a step behind, firmly reminding you that you can’t leave the hangar without Optimus’s permission. Don’t make him resort to bringing you back by force.

You can’t even hide in the base, find a quiet corner, and do your own thing, because one of them is always watching. Most often, it’s Ultra Magnus, who immediately gives you a lecture about staying within their line of sight—so you don’t accidentally get stepped on. It’s just an excuse, of course; Magnus simply has a stick so far up his aft that he can’t just admit he loves your company and feels strangely anxious and lost when you’re not around.

His microscopic knowledge of humans will also cause you countless headaches. All it takes is a sneeze, and Ultra Magnus is already dragging you to Ratchet, convinced you’re dying. And Ratchet takes your health matters very seriously, so you end up spending several minutes in the medbay, undergoing a thorough checkup. All the while, you are subjected to the medic’s grumbling about taking better care of yourself, under the intense gaze of the SIC of the Autobots, who’s tracking your every move and patiently waiting for the verdict.

The worst, however, is when you find yourself with the entire Holy Trinity in the base. None of them will ask you outright, “How was your day?” but everyone is dying to listen. This leads to a scenario where the Autobot elite huddles around you, hearts practically glowing in their optics, as you talk about workplace gossip or your current hobbies. The rest of the world ceases to exist for them. If the team wants their competent high command back, they have no choice but to pry them away from you.

Enter Wheeljack, who will occasionally whisk you away for private flying sessions in his ship, giving you a much-needed break. I think Arcee would take you for a ride a few times as well, unable to bear the sight of her superiors practically drooling over you. The long and detailed scolding they’ll receive from Magnus upon your return is another matter…

The SIC of the Autobots will immediately scoop you up into his servos before you can take another step and carry you straight back to Ratchet and Optimus, who can never get enough of your presence.

[jupitermelichios]

I started adding this to the tags, but apparently tumblr doesn't want people writing novels in the tags because they're cowards

as it stands in the show, i don't ship them, because i think edrissa deserves better than mal is currently capable of giving her, or anyone. (I do want them to be best friends and go to medical museums on the weekends and eat lunch together in the morgue so they can talk about corpses without the others complaining, though)

however.

it's ten years later. martin is dead. mal has taken a break from the police to work in academia, teaching students and writing papers. he's calmer. he's stable. the nightmares aren't gone, but they're better than they've ever been, and he eats multiple meals without needing to be reminded almost every day.

edrissa is still working in the morgue. she had a serious relationship for a few years, but in the end they grew apart and called in quits, and she's been single for a couple of years.

they haven't seen one another in almost a decade, but gil is finally retiring for good, and they bump into one another at the party. they mean to just catch up, but once they get talking they find they have so much to say. it's not like old times - it's better. edrissa is more confident. mal is calmer, and has a life that isn't just work and his father's legacy. and there's this spark not that wasn't there before, and next thing they know the party is ending and they haven't talked to anyone else all evening

they exchange numbers, but edrissa doesn't know if she should call. maybe she's too old for him? her hair is more silver than black now, and she likes how it looks, but mal has barely aged. if anything, he looks younger without the weight of his father to carry. the age difference between them is the same as its always been, but she convinces herself it feels larger

but she also knows that if she doesn't try, she'll always regret it. even though mal's interest in her back then was as a friend rather than a romantic possibility, she's always thought of him as her 'one that got away'.

and she also knows malcolm bright is never going to be the one to make the first move

however has hasn't counted on mal being a lot more emotionally mature than he wasn't when she first met him, and she's especially not counting on the fact that Dani and Gil saw them together and immediately decided to play matchmaker, or that Gil would get Jessica in on it

so before she's managed to psych herself up to make the first move, mal calls. tells her he knows they're old friends, but he'd always have regretted it if he didn't try, and would she like to get dinner?

she's so shocked she almost forgets to say yes, just sits there silently until mal starts to apologise, but they get there, and she accepts.

the experiment proves replicable. the spark is still there on the first date, the second, the third. they don't run out of things to talk about. the sex, when they eventually get to it, is great

it's not always easy. mal's healthier than he's ever been, but there are some wounds that are never going to entirely heal, some scars that won't fade. And edrissa's got scars of her own, along with a stubborn streak a mile wide

but they work at it. they compromise. they figure out which issues can be overcome with time and patience and which are best left alone. they don't move in together - edrissa has spent a lifetime currating a very specific space, and mal needs somewhere he can retreat to on his bad days. they've both got tempers and deep insecurities and a tendency to get absorbed in their work and vanish for days at a time, but they figure out ways to live with all of them.

their lives grow together, like intertwining vines. they grow together.

and they're happy.

Don’t die. - I won’t. I promise.

Malcolm and Edrisa, for @actuallylukedanes ♡

[oceantornadoo]

ch4 the wrong john | masterlist | next

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

—

The universe hates you, obviously.

Why else would it send you this charming and attractive man in the form of your brother’s boss? Not to mention your hookup with him was so meaningless he didn’t even deign to write you a note. Even a “had a nice time :)” would have been more acceptable than an empty bed and an aching throb in both your cunt and your chest. Since clearly it was just another hookup to him, you decide to treat John with the same dignity he treated you with.

“Nice to meet you both!” You nod at the clock above John’s head, refusing to meet his eyes, then turn to Gaz and give him a warm smile. “And I’m sorry you have to spend so much time with my brother. At least you get paid, it’s a better lot than mine.” The crew laughs, breaking the inevitable awkward tension of bringing a civilian family member to their place of work. Johnny shoves your shoulder and you gladly take the opportunity to turn your back on John.

“Well, Cap’s got a meeting soon, but we can show ye ‘round while we wait.” You don’t bother saying goodbye to John, something that Gaz and Ghost note with a look between them. Johnny’s too focused on you to notice, shouting his goodbyes over his shoulder to Price before tucking you against him once again. Your traitorous heart pounds out of your chest as you take stock of the situation. Not only is John your brother’s captain, he’s practically a father figure. Johnny’s told you how the captain took a chance on him, saved his life countless times, and you’re putting these facts together like pieces of the puzzle that is John Price. A military captain who treats his men like sons while treating a stranger like his wife, just to leave the next day. He’s clearly unstable, a person you should stay away from, because you have the slightest inkling he could ruin your life. He might already have.

Ghost leaves to finish training, Johnny on his heels to “wish him goodbye,” as if they won’t see each other in an hour. It’s disgusting how in love your brother is, how besotted Ghost is, and you hate yourself for wanting what they have so badly. It’s clear they’re meant for each other, tethered together by blood and sacrifice and the life that can grow after death. Want bubbles inside you like a pot about to explode, and you would do well to keep the lid on.

“So,” Gaz shakes you out of your reverie, cunning eyes tracking your gaze to Ghost and Johnny. “Approve of the Lieutenant for your brother? ‘m dyin’ to know.” You nod slightly, cheeks flushing in the face of Gaz’s full attention. Closer up, he’s the type of handsome you would never pursue, too pretty for his own good. In his voice and behind his eyes, though, there’s something lurking underneath. You can tell he wields his handsomeness as a weapon and you can’t even fault him for it.

“I think it’s more if Ghost approves of me, to be honest. They already seem like they’d hang the moon for each other.” Gaz nods thoughtfully, leading you outside to a path that outlines the base, giving you a glimpse of soldiers training outside. “An’ why’s that? Soap talks about you all the time like you’re a sort of angel. Not sayin’ you aren’t, of course.” He sends you a wink and you giggle at both that and the nickname Soap. Johnny told you about it, of course, but it’s a bit silly to hear it next to the name Ghost or even Gaz. He’s never told you what Soap meant, and you never asked in case it was something you didn’t want to hear.

“I think Johnny loves me, it’s just, I remind him of the parts of our family that don’t. And with Ghost, and all of you, he’s got a real family that doesn’t judge him. It’s like introducing two friend groups when you’re not sure if they’ll like each other. We represent different parts of him, but I’m old and Ghost is new, so the lines seem blurry to me.” Gaz lets you talk more, his demeanor so welcoming with the internal challenges you’re facing. He even tells you to call him Kyle, warm and soft. The two of you walk around base, minutes turning into an hour. Finally, a soldier runs up to the two of you, telling you you’re needed in Price’s office. You bite your lip nervously, not seeing how Kyle tracks your response. He almost freezes, years of training preventing him from doing so, but he’s still thrown by how nervous you seem to go back.

“Well, I’m a little sorry for talking your ear off. But I see why Johnny likes you, Kyle. You’re a good friend.” You smile at him, almost faltering when you see his stony expression. It changes in a split second, like a cloud moving from the sun, and he grins and tucks you under his shoulder, just like Johnny. “It’s no problem, angel. It’s one of my specialities. Let’s get you to lunch, ‘m starvin’.”

Johnny greets you like a long lost twin when you get back, asking for details about who you saw and where you went. He’s like that all the way to lunch, insisting on driving just the two of you to “the only decent pub in this town, really, hen.” It’s nice to spend time with him and you squeeze his forearm to say so, basking in the light of his smile. You almost forget about the John situation until you see him get out of the car the other men took, his fatigues fitting him criminally well. In fact, he’s even better looking in the daylight, blue eyes catching the sun while he stretches, muscles rippling under his clothes. You stare so long that Johnny yells at you to get moving, but he’s too focused on Ghost to turn back to see who you’re looking at. 

You find Kyle quickly, tucking your arm into the crook of his elbow and letting him guide you into the pub, sparing a singular backwards glance to John. He’s staring at you, again, but he’s too far back for you to tell anything of the subtext behind his eyes. Is he mad you’re Johnny’s sister? He has no right, obviously. Maybe he thinks you stalked him or something and this is all some elaborate scheme. Deciding you don’t care, you focus on lunch and the growling in your stomach from all the calories you burnt with John last night. He’s really the cause of all your current plights.

The pub only has booths. Johnny insists on you being in the middle, guest of honor and all that, so you’re stuck in the middle with Johnny on your left and Kyle on your right. Ghost is next to Johnny, of course, leaving John next to Kyle, a perfect angle for him to stare at you while you answer Johnny’s interrogation. Johnny asks you questions like you haven’t talked every week since you last saw each other. Like only a brother could be, he’s unhinged. 

“So yer still single, m'eudail?”

“An’ yer livin’ alone? Steaming Jesus, hen.”

“Not even a cat? Bloody hell.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see John’s shoulders bunching closer with every invasive question your brother asks. He’s being an ass, they both are, and you need a break. “Before the food comes, I’m going to use the toilet. Scooch, Johnny.” As you leave, you hear Ghost muttering to Johnny, telling him to calm down. At least someone’s on your side.

You do your business, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before going back out and facing the cavalry. As you open the door, you see the universe is not on your side.

“We need to talk.” He’s standing there, posture military straight. You hate him.

“John…” You try to push the bathroom door open to make your escape. He prides himself on your mission being unsuccessful, an arm preventing you from leaving. He doesn’t like to use his strength to intimidate women, but in this case, you’re too slippery for him to let you go politely.

“Sweetheart…”

“Oh, don’t sweetheart me, John. Or should I say, Captain?”

He yanks the door handle from your grip, spinning and locking you both inside in one move. It’s a one room toilet and there’s nowhere to go with John taking up space like it’s his right. “We need to talk.” He says it in what you imagine is his Captain Voice, firm and unmoving. Luckily for you, you’re not on his payroll. “Actually, we don’t. We had a good time, the night ended and you left, and now we happen to have a mutual connection. It’s whatever.” You try to shrug nonchalantly, fumbling for the door, but John notes how you stumbled over the words “you left.” His hands find your waist, pinning you to the door with a gentleness remnant of last night.

“You didn’t call. Or text. ‘m confused why y’r upset, pet, when the ball’s in y’r court.” His hands on your waist are breaking down your mental walls and you hate how easily you let down your guard. His actions don’t match his words, though, and that’s something you can’t deny. “How would I have called? I don’t have your number.” His brows knit together in confusion, thumbs rubbing circles over your shirt. “I left a note.” Oh. Oh.

“There was no note.”

“Left it on the pillow, sweetheart.”

“There was nothing on the pillow!”

“Must’ve moved while you slept. Should’ve known by how much ya kicked me last night.”

“I don’t kick! God, you’re annoying and-“ 

He cuts you off with a kiss, pressing you further into the door. John slots a muscled thigh between your legs, smiling against your skin when you let out a soft moan. “‘m sorry ‘m a right idiot, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” You shake your head, pushing him away but keeping your hands on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his uniform. “What would you have done if I never called? And if- if I didn’t show up on base?” He smiles at you indulgently, like you’re a little girl instead of a woman. He knows he’s won, can tell by how firm your grip is on his chest. “Would’ve gone back t’ the bar tonight. An’ if you weren’t there, would’ve gone to y’r hotel room.” You frown at him. “How would you have gotten up the elevator? You need a key card.” He pecks your forehead like he’s known you a year, rather than a day. “I have my ways, sweetheart. I am a captain, as you know.” 

That kills the mood.

You push him away, finally letting go, before stepping in front of the mirror to readjust your clothes and hair. He stands behind you and it’s intoxicating to imagine you two like this, fixing your clothes after a hookup or a domestic night in. Something about John Price feels permanent, likes he’s meant to be in your life for more than one night. But then, the image of your brother pops into your brain. Your memory of how much he talks about John, talks about the group in general. How they’re like family, like brothers, how Price treats him like a son. You can’t ruin this for him.

“We can’t do this, John. If it goes wrong, it’ll break Johnny’s heart. I can’t do that to him.” Hands wrap around your waist, slotting you against him. You fit perfectly and it’s heart wrenching. “An’ what about my heart? An’ yours?” You shake your head, pushing off of him and unlocking the door. “It’s early enough that we can just- just stop. Johnny’s more important. I am sorry, truly.” You walk away without a second glance, like John’s not even there.

And just like that, John Price knows he’s met his match. His future wife, if he has anything to say about it. John Price doesn’t lose.

-

notes: johnny says bloody hell because simon says bloody hell. i don’t make the rules sorry.

also someone complained on my ao3 that this wasn’t slow burn and…i never said it was???? they literally meet as a hookup bffr. anyways hope yall enjoy! angst is coming soon hehe

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[room-surprise]

(Warning for Dungeon Meshi manga spoilers below, spoiling the end of Kabru and Mithrun's story arcs. Seriously don't keep reading if you don't want to know how it ends!!!)

One of my favorite things in Dungeon Meshi is how at the end of the story, Mithrun is in a suicidal death spiral, he's lost all will to live, and Kabru gets frustrated with him at first, yells at him...

And then he calms down, reaches out his hand to him and says, more or less, "Please don't do this to yourself. I don't want you to do this."

And Mithrun thinks about all of the things Kabru's said up until then, the week they spent together, and he takes his hand and says "...okay. I'll try."

He agrees to try living again, even though it's hard, and inevitably it is going to hurt, because being alive means that sometimes we will be hurt.

And then Mithrun gets up and, probably for the first time in his life, he starts helping other people for no reason except that he wants to help. Nobody ordered him, it's not expected of him. He chooses to help. He wants to do it. He SAYS that he wants to do it. Maybe he can find purpose in life in helping others.

Kabru too seems to be someone whose entire purpose in life is helping others. It's how he gives his life purpose, he believes that protecting others from another Utaya is the reason he's alive. So it's significant that after spending time with Kabru, Mithrun chooses to follow his lead... Both literally, when he asks Kabru "what do you want to do?" and agrees to follow him, but also at the end of the manga, where Mithrun's choices reflect Kabru's values.

Post-manga, Mithrun decides that he wanted to spend the rest of his long life helping the people of the new kingdom, even though he'd been raised to believe they were his inferiors.

He wants to live among them, and keep them safe. He chooses them, and their "barbaric, uncivilized land" (how Fleki describes the region) over returning west to luxury, wealth and comfort.

He chooses the tall-men over the elves, who have rejected him and abused him for being disabled and traumatized... And whose culture was so brutally unforgiving of imperfection that it made him an anxiety-ridden paranoid mess as a young man.

Maybe it won't be any better in the east, but Kabru is there, and Kabru wants Mithrun to try living. He thinks Mithrun isn't irredeemably broken.

And, the way Mithrun wants to help the people of the new country... Just so happens to be doing something that will alleviate some of Kabru's deep, traumatic fear of monsters.

Mithrun's going to make this new country safe, so Kabru can live there without fear, even if there's an unusually high amount of monsters out in the countryside. Even if Laios' curse stops working, or he dies, Mithrun will be there. Kabru has a safeguard that he knows will outlive him.

Mithrun says that the demon left behind a hole in his heart, and that "the people around him" have filled it.

Years with his team didn't make Mithrun get better. They weren't able to change him or help him. Maybe they didn't even try, because they all believed he was unsalvageable.

But Kabru never believed that. Even from the beginning, he refused to believe that Mithrun was beyond help. He rejected using magic to make him sleep, because he believed Mithrun could be helped with a gentle touch, and basic human kindness... And he was right.

[kimoralov3]

lay all your love on me 24

jj maybank x heyward!reader

<- previous next ->

"y/n come on, we're gonna be late if we keep waiting on you!" pope calls from outside your door. you roll your eyes at that, putting on one more swipe of mascara.

"stop rushing me! i just need like two more seconds!" you call back as you apply your lip liner and lip gloss. you give yourself a final once over, making sure you look decent before grabbing your sandals and sliding them on as you hobble over to the door.

when you open it pope is still standing there, arms crossed over his chest as he shakes his head. you stick your tongue out at him before taking the steps two at a time to meet everyone else outside in front of the twinkie. sarah wasn't feeling well today, so it'd just be you, pope, jj, cleo, kie, and her girlfriend lex going to the party at the boneyard today. sarah and john b were sitting on the front porch when you got out there, so you stopped to talk to them.

"hey guys. are you two sure you don't want me to stay home? i wouldn't really mind." you ask as you stand in front of them. sarah waves a dismissive hand at that.

"yes yes, we're sure. besides, you have more important things to worry about." she says as she and john b wiggle their eyebrows at you. sarah was pregnant so you couldn't exactly hit her, but you sure as hell did give john b a good punch in the shoulder before walking away.

ever since you and jj had fallen asleep together outside, the pogues would not leave the two of you alone. i mean, it's not like it meant anything. just friends helping each other out. friends who had been doing a lot of... hanging out lately. the kind of hang outs that felt like dates. but they weren't! jj was just trying to make up for being an ass. in a very rom-com way. but still! the two of you were just friends. much to your dismay.

you all had been at the boneyard for about 3 hours now, and it was really starting to crank up. not that you could really focus on that, though, because you had spent basically the whole time running and hiding from jj.

"y/n, would it really be that bad to talk to him?" aubree asks as rafe comes back with her drink. rafe immediately wraps an arm around her, and you get the sense that that should make you upset or something but it doesn't. you've both moved on for the better.

"obviously. don't wanna embarrass myself. besides, he seems a little... preoccupied at the moment." you say as you tilt your cup in his direction. he's currently talking to some girl that went to school with you guys- her name was like, ashley or something? doesn't really matter, what matters is the fact that she has jj's full attention and not you.

"aww, are you jealous because he's talking to other girls?" kiara asks teasingly, causing lex to elbow her in her side.

"i am not jealous. if he wants to talk to other girls, he's very free to. it's not like we're dating or anything." you say as you take a sip of the beer you'd been nursing since you got there.

"but you want to be." rafe says. it's a statement and not a question, which makes you even more frustrated with all your friends. why couldn't they just butt out of your love life?

"i'm leaving." you say, walking away quickly before any of them could poke fun at you again. as you're walking towards the water you hear someone calling your name, and you turn to see jj jogging towards you. just what you needed, great.

"hey, y/n! haven't really spoken with you since we got here." he says once he catches up with you. you force a smile on your face as you try and come up with a response.

"yeah, sorry about that. to be honest, i'm not really in the partying mood tonight." you say with a shrug. "i'll probably head home soon, anyways."

"you're gonna walk all the way back home by yourself?" he asks as he shoves his hands in his pockets. it's a nervous habit of his that you've always found cute, but you can't help but wonder what could possibly be making him nervous at the moment.

"yeah. don't wanna ruin the fun for everyone else." you say with a light chuckle as you kick up some sand.

"i'll walk with you." he says as if it's the easiest decision he's ever made.

"what? no, jj. you stay, i'll be fine." you say quickly. "you love parties."

"yeah, but i'm not really feeling this one. 's kinda lame." he says with that boyish smile of his. god, he's making this really difficult.

"alright, fine. if you insist." you say as you toss your empty cup somewhere. (sorry kie!)

"lead the way, m'lady." he says as he tips an invisible hat at you. you roll your eyes, shoving him gently. he just laughs, seeing as your little push didn't do much in the way of moving him.

the walk back home is pretty much silent, save for the late night sounds of the town. you almost wish that it could be like this forever, the two of you just enjoying each other's company. but there's this thing that keeps floating around in your head, and no matter how hard you try you just can't seem to rid yourself of it.

"so, i saw you talking to ashley earlier." you say so quietly that jj didn't hear you. "the two of you looked pretty cozy."

that causes jj to stop walking, looking at you as if you had grown three extra heads. "huh?"

"you and ashley. the two of you were talking at the party. are you into her? it's totally cool if you are. i mean yeah, she was kind of a bitch to us in high school but i'm sure she's changed-"

"and they call me the oblivious one." he says with a chuckle. he was looking around as if he thought he was being pranked.

now it was your turn to be confused. "what?"

jj looks at you for a moment, almost as if he was studying you. "y/n, do you honestly think i'm interested in any other girl besides you?"

had you drank more beer than you thought? was it actually beer in your cup, or had you been drinking something else the whole time? because that was the only logical explanation for what you thought you just heard. "huh?"

jj smirks, taking a step closer to you and using his finger to push your chin up. "close your mouth, mama. wouldn't want bugs getting in there would we?"

you couldn't believe it. had jj really said what you thought he said? "i'm sorry, could you repeat that please?"

"i'm in love with you, y/n. have been for a while now. and i know that i acted like a total fucking asshole about the whole rafe situation, and there will never be enough time or enough words for me to properly apologize for that, but i want to be with you. genuinely. in fact, i don't think i've ever been so serious about something the way i'm serious about you." he says as he gently takes your hand in his.

"b-but, you were talking with ashley and it looked like-"

"i was talking with ashley because i was buying something from her. something for you." he explains as he reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a braided bracelet. he slides it onto your arm, making sure it's secure before removing his hands so you can get a proper look at it. it was fairly simple; peachy colored thread holding up a bead with the letter j on it. "i was gonna give it to you when i asked you to be my girlfriend."

"i don't know what to say." you whisper, still in awe. you hear jj laugh at that, and when you look up he bring a hand up to cup your cheek.

"just say yes, y/n. say you'll be my girlfriend." he whispers as he brushes his thumb across your cheek.

"yes, jj. i would love to be your girlfriend." you say with a smile. the biggest smile you'd ever seen broke out across jj's face, so big you're surprised his face didn't split in half. he brings his other hand to the other side of your face and pulls you in for a kiss. it's a lot more gentle than you would've expected from someone like jj, but you wouldn't have it any other way. his lips were soft, almost cloud like and he tasted like cheap beer and his favorite spearmint flavored gum.

you honestly couldn't tell how long the two of you kissed for, but you didn't want it to ever end. unfortunately the two of you needed to come up for air and when you did, jj pressed his forehead against yours.

"i love you too, jj." you say, pressing a small kiss to the tip of jj's nose. he smiled again, but this time it was charged with something else, something you couldn't quite put your finger on. but if you had to guess, it was somewhere between love and admiration.

"good. now let's get you home." he says as he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as the of you finish the walk back home.

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